


there ain't language for the things i feel

by nevershootamockingbird



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Established Relationship, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 01:32:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17778053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevershootamockingbird/pseuds/nevershootamockingbird
Summary: He makes it through three more paragraphs before his attention begins to wander once more to the half-orc behind him.The touch of white that once only graced his temples is now peppered throughout his dark hair, a recent change that Fjord took in stride with a good-natured laugh and a joke about the memories of their close calls making him age early. His left shoulder aches on rainy days, though Caleb knows he frets more over Caleb's wrists with their tendency to creak since he turned forty last summer. They both have more scarred skin than untouched, at this point, and he still wakes some nights choking back screams, knows Fjord does the same.They have survived so much to get here. Caleb thinks that retirement is suiting them just fine, but he is rather tired of being scared.





	there ain't language for the things i feel

**Author's Note:**

> First work of the new year and it's super gay, NICE!
> 
> Caleb and Fjord, retired and in love. Sappy thoughts and a proposal follow.
> 
> I had a lovely time writing this, I hope you enjoy! Happy Valentine's Day!

He’s a quarter of the way through the latest novel Jester left at their house when he hears the the second stair from the top of the staircase creak, as it is wont to do in the colder weather. Caleb smiles softly, turning to the next page as he listens to his partner slowly descend and turn into the living room. A hand rests on the back of his neck a moment later, squeezing gently before disappearing, and Caleb hums quietly in his throat. “Good morning, schatz.”

“Mornin’, Cay.” Fjord slumps into the other corner of the couch, one foot planted on the floor and the other leg pressed up against the back of the cushions, still blinking sleep from his eyes, and Caleb feels the corners of his lips draw further back, smile growing on its own accord. He watches a furrow appear on the other man’s brow, voice still a little hoarse when he asks, “Why are you still over there?”

“Did you want me elsewhere?” He teases, but he moves before Fjord can say anything else, scooting closer until two large arms wrap around him, tugging and maneuvering their bodies just so. The end result is decidedly cozier than he had been for the past hour, bundled back against Fjord’s broad chest, bracketed between his thigh and the edge of the couch, two strong arms wrapped around him. 

Fjord sighs, a content sound that sinks into Caleb’s bones like the warmth of a summer’s day, before ducking down to press a kiss to his jaw. His words blur against skin and soft scruff, “Comfortable?”

“Mm, ja, you are much warmer than an empty sofa.” Fjord’s lips turn up at his words, and Caleb smiles in response, smoothing a hand over Fjord’s thigh when the other man presses another kiss to his jaw. 

“Anything on the agenda today?” One hand curves around Caleb’s ribs, comforting in its warmth and heaviness; the other settles over his heart, as though to check that it still beats. Caleb wonders, not for the first time, if Fjord knows intimately the rhythm of his heart in his chest, just as he knows the amount of honey to spoon into Caleb's tea, the way he knows the pattern of the freckles dusted across his shoulders, the curves of the tattoo on his thigh. 

“Not until dinner tonight,” he murmurs, reaching up blindly to rub his knuckles along Fjord’s cheek. It earns him a rumbling purr in the half-orc’s chest, a kiss pressed to skin when his partner turns his head to brush his lips along the available digits. Caleb sighs contentedly, allowing another kiss before dropping his hand to rest against Jester’s book again. “We have to be sure to not be late again.”

“Hey now, we both know it wasn’t my fault last time,” and Caleb grins at the laugh bubbling through Fjord’s words. He rests his chin against Caleb’s head as he continues, “I told you we were gonna be late, but you still went and got both of us, ah, distracted.”

“I remember nothing of the sort,” Caleb says archly, flipping open his book once more as he directs his attention down. “Besides, I can hardly be blamed. You looked particularly dashing in that waistcoat.”

“And that’s why I will not be wearing it tonight.” Fjord shifts down a little more, and Caleb snorts, settling more comfortably against the girth of his stomach. 

“No, you are not wearing it tonight because both Beauregard and Nott protested Jester’s fancy dress code.” Caleb enjoys the excuse to dress up these days, if he’s being honest, but he has to admit that it will be nice to just stay in his comfortable clothes before leaving for the night.

Fjord shrugs, voice content and a little drowsy as he murmurs, “Same thing.”

They lapse into silence, then, comfortable like a thick blanket on a chilly night. Fjord’s breathing grows slower, ruffling Caleb’s hair, and the human smiles to himself before finding the page he left off on. 

He makes it through three more paragraphs before his attention begins to wander once more to the half-orc behind him. 

The touch of white that once only graced his temples is now peppered throughout his dark hair, a recent change that Fjord took in stride with a good-natured laugh and a joke about the memories of their close calls making him age early. His left shoulder aches on rainy days, though Caleb knows he frets more over Caleb's wrists with their tendency to creak since he turned forty last summer. They both have more scarred skin than untouched, at this point, and he still wakes some nights choking back screams, knows Fjord does the same.

They have survived so much to get here. Caleb thinks that retirement is suiting them just fine, but he is rather tired of being scared. 

He'd almost lost this, this man and the opportunity for a quiet future, their makeshift family, more than once. He doesn't want to carry any new regrets.

Fjord?” He speaks quietly, lets his head fall back against a shoulder, turning to press his forehead to the side of his partner’s throat. At the drowsy murmur behind him, Caleb shuts his eyes, the words he’s been mulling over for the better part of a week finally falling free of his lips, “What do you think about forever?”

One large hand drifts down to rest against his stomach, and Caleb drops his book to the rug, covering Fjord’s hand with both of his own. He feels more than he hears the hum vibrating through his partner’s chest, opens his eyes to green as the other man asks, “What d’you mean?”

“Well, what do you think about, when you think of the rest of your life?” There's a sharp inhale above him, Fjord’s fingers curling loosely in the thick knit of his sweater. There's an audible click as he swallows, and he exhales slowly, tongue sliding out to wet his lips before asking, nerves roiling in his stomach like a turbulent sea, “What do you think of forever, with me?”

“Caleb?” Tentative, hopeful, and suddenly he has to look, twists around carefully until he is kneeling between Fjord’s legs, reaching up with gentle hands to frame his partner’s face. 

“I know we haven't, ah, talked much about the future, but I also know that I cannot imagine it without you,” he says, quiet and steady, determination burning bright behind his breastbone. Fjord’s eyes are wide, a hint of a smile curling at his lips, and it makes Caleb continue, “There is no future that I want without you. Would you consider spending the rest of your life with me?”

“Darlin’, in what world would I ever say no?” The words are pressed against his mouth, Fjord drawing him forward and tilting his head to slide their lips together, large hands curving around his hips, as if he would try to move away. The half-orc brushes their noses together, eyes shining as he says, “If that was a proposal, the answer is yes.”

Caleb laughs, giddy and relieved, thumbs smoothing over the other man’s cheeks as he lets himself be pulled in for another kiss, and another. He stops when he is smiling too hard to continue, dropping one hand down to Fjord’s chest and gently holding him still as he sits back on his heels. His other hand fumbles in his pocket as he haltingly explains, “Wait, just one moment- I have it- here! For you, if you’d like. I don’t know about customs on the coast, but, ah, rings are used in Zemnian culture.”

The ring feels almost foreign, suddenly, and he has a sudden moment of panic as he offers it between them, sure that some fault will be found in the pattern or size. Fjord just lets out a soft sigh, awe settling into tilt of his brow, the bow of his lips, and Caleb feels his heart settle again, takes his partner’s left hand and carefully slips the ring onto his fourth finger. He lets go to allow his partner to hold his hand up closer, the sea glass interspersed in the silver catching in the soft sunlight filtering through their windows. Fjord’s voice only catches a little as he says, “It's beautiful, Caleb, thank you. I'll get you one, too.”    


“There is no rush,” he murmurs, waving his hand. Fjord catches it in one of his own, drawing it up to press a kiss to Caleb's knuckles, and the softness of the gesture nearly undoes him. “How do you feel about a ceremony? Small, of course, and only if you'd like, it is not necessary--”   


“Cay, I'd really like that,” Fjord cuts in gently, lips brushing against his skin still, and Caleb suddenly finds himself blinking back moisture, nerves and tension dissipating in one quick rush, happiness filling the empty space like the ocean at high tide. 

“Good,” he says, nodding, and Fjord nods with him, the corners of his eyes crinkling in fond amusement. Caleb huffs softly, swallows back all the emotions that he still cannot name at times, instead suggesting, “Tonight we can tell the others, if you want, and then we'll figure out the details. We have time.”   


Fjord smiles, squeezing his hand gently as he lets their hands fall to rest in Caleb’s lap. “Sounds like a plan.”   


“Maybe half of a plan, but I suppose that is more than we used to go on.” He smiles wryly, and Fjord laughs, head tipping back; Caleb can't resist leaning up to brush a kiss to the soft slope of his jaw.   


“We'll make it work, Caleb. We always do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I hope that you love it as much as I do. 
> 
> I'm always soft about widofjord, and this piece was no exception. I got a little stuck on it a couple weeks ago, set it down and vowed to come back to it, and I am SO happy I finished in time to post it today. 
> 
> Title is from "Love Like Ghosts" by Lord Huron, because the line hit me like a ton of bricks and just seemed to fit so well for these two.
> 
> Thanks again for reading! I really hope you enjoyed it. You can find me on [tumblr](https://nevershootamockingbird.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/daleytwin1) if you feel like yelling with me about these lovely characters (or anything else, really).


End file.
